


Recompense

by autumnyte



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Comfort, M/M, Romance, Schmoop, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-11
Updated: 2011-06-11
Packaged: 2017-10-20 08:12:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnyte/pseuds/autumnyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written for a prompt on the DA Kink Meme.</p><p>Hawke gives Fenris a foot massage, among other things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recompense

As Hawke looked over at Fenris, it occurred to him--not for the first time--that perhaps the elf should rethink his lack of footwear. Traipsing around Kirkwall with naught but a strap of leather underfoot had never struck Hawke as sensible; but presently, Fenris’s discomfort was so apparent that Hawke ached just watching him walk. His normally brisk stride had been replaced with halting, ginger steps.

They were returning from Sundermount, where they’d been ostensibly directed to track down a dangerous assassin. As it happened, they’d been misled, both about the assassin and the nature of their employer. In a strange turn of events, they’d ended up fighting alongside the very assassin they were hired to apprehend, against a group of his former comrades in the Antivan Crows.

The entire fiasco had kept them away a full day longer than anticipated. They hadn’t slept and had barely paused to rest along the way. Hawke’s own feet were weary and _he_ had the benefit of a sturdy, well-fitting pair of boots. Fenris seemed to be faring much worse, between his bare feet and the heavy blade strapped to his back.

“So,” Hawke began, tentatively, “that assassin, Zevran--”

“The one you called ‘handsome’,” Fenris said, his voice thick with jealousy.

Hawke fought a grin, inwardly enjoying the display of possessiveness. “That was strictly friendly banter, Fenris. I was attempting to defuse the situation.”

“I seem to recall you flattering me with the exact same word the night we met. Perhaps it is part of your standard greeting for male elves.” A painful expression of insecurity crossed Fenris’s features and Hawke’s amusement evaporated.

Fenris had such a strong, stoic exterior that it was easy for Hawke to forget about the tenuous self-worth that lay beneath it. He wanted to grab Fenris and kiss his doubts away, but thought better of it, given their current position in the conspicuous afternoon sunlight of a bustling Hightown street.

He placed a hand on the elf’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. “That night--in between killing slavers and shades, mind you--I was unable to take my eyes off you. I spent the whole evening trying desperately not to make an ass out of myself in front of the most stunning, fascinating man I’d ever met.  Which... you still are, incidentally. Calling you ‘handsome’ was criminal understatement.”

Fenris gave Hawke half a smile and the worried glint in his eyes changed to pleased satisfaction. They started moving again, Fenris with tottering steps that reminded Hawke of the reason he’d mentioned Zevran in the first place. He decided it would probably be unwise to revisit that conversation, however.

But Fenris was the one to bring it up again, after a few moments of silence had passed between them. “What was it you were going to say about the assassin?”

“Ah. Well... I couldn’t help noticing he’s an elf. And he was wearing boots.” Hawke hoped his point would be obvious.

“Evidently, your keen powers of observation were left intact, despite having been tossed on your head by the Varterral,” Fenris said, dryly.

Hawke acknowledged the gibe with a smirk. “I do actually have a point, other than the one on my head. Merrill told me that elves don’t wear shoes, but clearly, some do. Watching you limp along like that, I’m wondering why you don’t. You’ve never been one to keep with elven traditions.”

“Indeed. In my case, it has nothing to do with tradition.” Fenris shook his head. “In fact, I have tried wearing shoes before. I managed to obtain a pair shortly after I escaped from Danarius. Even fitted by an expert shoemaker, they were miserable--painful and awkward. Not remotely worth the effort. I manage without them... unrelenting trips to Sundermount excepted.”

Hawke hung his head, realizing that Fenris deserved much better treatment than he’d received over the past couple of days. It had been cruel to flirt so blatantly with another man in his presence, and even worse to drag him hither and yon with no respite. “I’m sorry. We should have made camp last night. I should have pushed for it, even though Merrill and Aveline were both so anxious to keep moving.”

“No. There was no need to coddle me,” Fenris insisted. “I shall be fine. You have seen me endure far worse than sore feet.”

Hawke fleetingly thought about proposing that they pay a visit to Anders for healing, but given Fenris’s distaste for magic and for that mage in particular, he suspected the suggestion would go over about as well as a golem on a wooden catapult.

Instead, he remained silent as they finally reached the entrance to his estate. Then, an idea occurred to Hawke, a way he might be able to provide some small recompense to Fenris. But it would require convincing, as well as a plan. First, he would need to lure Fenris up to his bedroom.

“Stay with me tonight?” Hawke asked, taking Fenris’s hand and twining their gauntleted fingers together.

“It’s the middle of the afternoon.”

“Clearly, the encounter with the Varterral did no lasting damage to your observational skills, either,” Hawke teased.

Fenris let out a brief chuckle before turning serious again, his mouth forming a thin line. “Were I to stay, I am certain you would have... expectations. I don’t wish to disappoint you, but I doubt myself capable of anything other than sleep.”

“That’s fine. Surely you aren’t implying that I’d take advantage of you in your current state.” Hawke feigned offense before stepping back to look Fenris up and down lasciviously. “All right, I would. I mean, Maker, just look at you. But I promise to be on my best behavior.”

“Somehow, that does not instill me with confidence.” Fenris raised an eyebrow, but his grip on Hawke’s hand didn’t falter.

“I like having you beside me in bed,” Hawke said softly, his free hand cupping the back of Fenris’s neck as he planted a kiss on his head. “I just want to wake up with you in my arms, with my face buried in your hair.”

Fenris swallowed and gazed up at Hawke with a look that said he wasn’t going to refuse the man anything.

“Besides,” Hawke continued, attempting to sweeten the deal, “if you stay, you won’t have to walk any farther. And I’d wager there’s barely any food back at your mansion. Four-day-old bread and wine don’t constitute a decent meal. I can have Bodahn fix us something to eat, then we can turn in early.”

“Very well.” Fenris relented with a sigh. “I must admit, that does sound appealing. I shall stay.”

Hawke grinned and led the way inside. _So far, so good._

***

“Ah, messeres!” Bodahn greeted them with his typically effusive welcome. “Everything is all right, I trust?”

“Afternoon, Bodahn. Yes, but we’re rather exhausted. We’ll be retiring to my room straight away,” Hawke explained.

“Very good, ser,” Bodahn answered.

“Fenris, why don’t you let me carry you upstairs?” Hawke threw his arms open and started forward, moving to lift him. “You can finally tell Varric I actually did sweep you off your feet!”

Fenris grumbled indignantly--something in Arcanum that didn’t sound terribly complimentary--and promptly began making his own way upstairs.

Hawke smirked. _That was almost too easy._

“Bodahn, could you kindly arrange to have a few things sent up to my room?” Hawke asked, as soon as Fenris was out of earshot. “A light repast--nothing that takes too much preparation, as we’re famished. Also, a large basin of fresh water, soap, some towels, and a bottle of that sweet almond oil.”

“Certainly, messere. It shouldn’t take but a few moments.” Bodahn gave a quick bow of his head  and headed for the kitchen with Sandal close behind.

Hawke proceeded upstairs to join Fenris, whom he found standing aimlessly in the center of his bedroom.

“I wish you felt more at home here.” Hawke sighed, equal parts wistfulness and acceptance.

“I know,” Fenris admitted. There was something of an apology in his tone.

Hawke stepped forward and brushed a kiss against his lips. “Thank you for staying. I’m glad you’re here.”

“And I’m glad you convinced me.” Fenris smiled up at him. It was a genuine smile that extended to his eyes and made Hawke’s pulse quicken.

“Right. I should let you change out of that armor and get off your feet.” Hawke walked over to his wardrobe, removed two clean tunics and handed one to Fenris.

Fenris regarded the garment with a hint of unease, as he always did. Hawke had given it to him weeks ago when they’d first resumed their romance. He’d wanted Fenris to have something comfortable to change into when he spent the night. Knowing how awkward Fenris tended to be about receiving gifts, Hawke had tried to be casual, implying it was merely a cast-off he’d outgrown. But Fenris had clearly noticed that the clothing was brand new, fine linen, and exactly his size. He’d accepted graciously and without protest, but still seemed a bit hesitant to wear it.

His reluctance faded more quickly than usual, however, and he began to disrobe, unfastening the buckles on his armor. Hawke spun around and turned his attention to undressing himself. He feared that one glimpse of Fenris’s naked form might do him in--his plan abandoned and his promise rendered null.

Fenris laughed deep and low. “Must you turn your back? There is nothing you have not seen before... quite a few times.”

“I’m attempting to be a gentleman, here.” Hawke closed his eyes and tried not to envision Fenris’s lean but finely developed muscles, the bronze skin and the silver lyrium swirls that weaved and curved over nearly every inch of him. He failed spectacularly. The mental image caused a tingle of warmth to spread through his body and settle at his groin.

“Do you truly find me so tempting that you cannot even--”

“Yes,” Hawke interrupted vehemently. He slid his own tunic over his head just as there was a knock at the door. Sneaking a fast peek over his shoulder, he could see that Fenris-- _thank the Maker_ \--had also finished changing.

Hawke opened his door and found Orana balancing a large tray of food on one hand. “Please come in, Orana. That looks wonderful. Could you put it over on my desk?”

“Yes, Master Hawke. I hope it is all to your liking. Sandal will be up soon with the other things you requested.” Orana smiled and glanced nervously at Fenris. He’d chastised her so many times for calling him “master” that she seemed petrified of saying the wrong thing. “Good afternoon, Ma--um, Messere Fenris.”

“Hello, Orana. Thank you for the food,” Fenris replied in what passed for a pleasant tone, then turned to Hawke with a quirked eyebrow. “ _Other_ things?”

At that moment, Sandal arrived carrying a large basin of water. Hooked over his arm was a basket containing the rest of the items, and Hawke noted with relief that the bottle of oil wasn’t visible, which meant he wouldn’t have to reveal that part of the plan to Fenris just yet.

“Sandal, you can put that over here.” Hawke directed him to set it down at the right of the bed, the side on which Fenris slept.

Hawke thanked both Sandal and Orana and asked them not to bother returning to collect the basin or dishes. Orana nodded and slipped out of the room. Sandal remained behind, standing before Hawke to present him with an outstretched arm. His tiny palm opened to reveal a somewhat familiar, smooth stone.

“Enchantment!” Sandal exclaimed, with more excitement than a child at Feastday.

“Sandal, is this the clever water-warming stone you enchanted?” The boy nodded and Hawke clapped him on the back. “Brilliant! Good thinking.”

After Sandal left, Hawke walked over to the basin of water and dropped in the stone, watching in fascination as the water instantly began to bubble and steam. He took the opportunity to bend over surreptitiously and slide the almond oil beneath the bottom towel in the basket.

“What is all that?” Fenris inquired, pointing at the basin and basket. “And why is it on my side of the bed?”

 _His side of the bed_. Hawke tried hard not to look overly pleased by those words, but felt the corners of his mouth drift upward and suspected he hadn’t succeeded in the effort.

 __

“I thought you should soak your feet,” Hawke suggested, carefully not revealing the other aspect of his plan. “It’ll help with the ache. Go sit on the bed and rest your feet in the water for a while. I’ll bring over some food for you.”

“All right,” Fenris agreed readily, somewhat to Hawke’s astonishment, then walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. He hissed a little as he dipped both feet in the hot water, then closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

Hawke wandered to his desk and surveyed the offerings Orana had provided. His mouth watered at the simple yet sumptuous spread: dry cured ham, an assortment of cheeses, figs preserved in honey, several rounds of fresh manchet bread, and pear brandy.

A loud growl resounded from Hawke’s empty stomach in anticipation of long-awaited sustenance. He hurriedly assembled a plate with a bit of everything, poured two glasses of brandy, and carried it all to the bed. Sitting beside Fenris, he offered him a glass and put the plate between them.

“Mmm, yoo hafta try dis,” Hawke mumbled, his mouth already stuffed full of ham and cheese.

Fenris’s feet splashed as he shifted. He tucked into the meal voraciously, first scarfing down a large piece of bread and then a hunk of cheese before helping himself to some figs. A thin line of honey dribbled down his chin and Hawke reached out reflexively to wipe it away. Fenris watched as he licked it off his thumb, his affection for Hawke evident in his gaze.

“Hawke,” Fenris said quietly, “all of this... it is thoughtful of you. I appreciate it.”

Hawke smiled. _Time for the rest of the plan. It’s now or never._ “There is... one more thing I’d like to do for you, if you’ll let me.”

Fenris’s eyes narrowed in playful suspicion. “What did you have in mind?”

“I want--” Hawke felt suddenly and inexplicably bashful, but decided to be direct. “I want to massage your feet.”

“You wish... to _touch_ my feet?” Fenris was incredulous. “Is this because I am an elf?”

Hawke laughed. He’d expected resistance, certainly, but not that particular accusation. “Of course it isn’t because you’re an elf! Nor is it a clever ploy to trick you into sex, in case that was going to be your next question.”

“Why, then? You have never spoken of such a thing before.” 

“I’ve never seen you walk so gingerly before,” Hawke pointed out. “I just want to make you feel good, Fenris. I know I’ve been a bastard the past couple of days and it’s partly my fault you’re in pain to begin with. I’d like to try to make up for it in some small way.”

Fenris shook his head. “There is no need. I follow you willingly and things sometimes happen.”

“But that’s precisely it. You remain at my side, offering your support day after day, and I rarely get a chance to show my gratitude. I _want_ to do this for you. Will you allow me, please?” Hawke asked, stopping just short of begging.

Fenris silently contemplated his brandy glass for a while. He tipped it back and swallowed the remaining liquid in a single gulp. “Yes,” he finally agreed.

Hawke exhaled, only now becoming aware of how much he wanted to do this. After putting the plate and glasses on the nightstand, he dropped to the floor and sat at Fenris’s feet. He peered up and noticed that the elf’s countenance had changed drastically in a matter of minutes.  Fenris was staring back at him, looking intrigued and--if Hawke wasn’t imagining it--a bit eager.

“If you don’t enjoy this at any point, say the word and I’ll stop. Also, if you need to fall asleep, my pride won’t be wounded.” That last part wasn’t entirely true, but Hawke wanted Fenris to feel completely at ease.

Hawke dunked a towel in the water, wrung it out, and soaped it up until it was sudsy. He reached back into the water and began to wash Fenris’s feet. He was slow and thorough, scrubbing the soles, washing between the toes, and taking extra care around the raised brandings, which seemed to be magnets for dirt.

Fenris closed his eyes and made little noises of contentment. The sounds made Hawke’s skin prickle with need, a sensation which only intensified when his eyes drifted down Fenris’s body and he noticed that the elf was not wearing any underclothes.

 _Remember, this is only about making Fenris feel good, you horny bastard_. Hawke bit down hard on his lip, then continued with his ablutions.

 __

Finally satisfied that Fenris’s feet were clean, Hawke removed them from the water and pushed the basin aside. Fenris was a picture of drowsy pleasure as Hawke toweled off his feet and ankles.

“Lie back on the bed,” Hawke directed. “The more comfortable you are, the more relaxing this will be.”

Fenris rolled onto his back in one fluid motion. When his head hit the pillow, he yawned, and Hawke wondered if things would be over before they began.

Hawke took a pillow from his side of the bed, gently lifted Fenris’s legs and placed it under his knees. He reached for the oil, poured a bit into his hand and began warming it between his palms.

Fenris perked up, tilting his head to see what Hawke was doing. “That fragrance... almond oil?”

“Yes.” Hawke grinned. “I only plan to use it on your feet, though. I’m determined to keep my promise to behave myself, even if you aren’t wearing any underclothes.”

Fenris chuckled and let his head fall back on the pillow. “I trust you.”

Hawke cradled Fenris’s left foot and began to smooth the oil over it. Fenris’s feet looked small and almost dainty from a distance, but up close, it was clear that they were far from delicate. The soles and heels were thick and callused from a lifetime of barefoot walking, and from the markings that covered them. The tops were a bit softer, rough only where they too were lined with thick stripes of lyrium.

Hawke took his time slicking oil over Fenris’s entire foot, working it in to every dry patch. When he began to apply it around the toes, Fenris made a noise that was a cross between a whimper and a growl. Hawke looked up at him with curiosity, as the sound was unlike any he’d made before.

“Does what I’m doing feel all right?”

“Yes,” Fenris croaked, then cleared his throat for a second attempt. “Yes. It was just... surprising. Please continue.”

“Surprising” from Fenris was often a code word for “arousing”, but Hawke wasn’t going to allow himself to think about that distracting notion just now.

He turned his attention back to Fenris’s foot. Given how sore Fenris was, he experimented with applying light pressure first. This caused Fenris to thrash about and laugh wildly--not his normal subdued chuckle, either, but a high-pitched cackle. Hawke had to exert significant effort in stifling his own laughter. He decided to file away the knowledge of his lover’s surprising ticklishness for future use, but at the moment, torturing him was the last thing he wanted.

“I’m sorry, Fenris,” he apologized. “I’ll try my best not to do that again.”

Fenris nodded, and Hawke used his thumbs to apply very hard pressure to the soles. That seemed to meet with approval, so Hawke proceeded. He pressed in deep circular motions, working out any knots and areas of tension he encountered. Fenris rewarded him with a series of blissful murmurs.

“Is this amount of pressure not enough or too much?” Hawke asked, wanting to make it good for Fenris.

“It... it's perfect,” came the hoarse reply.

Hawke kept at it for quite some time, until his hands were nearly sore. He kneaded, stroked and rubbed each part of the foot, basking in Fenris’s extremely favorable reaction every step of the way. When the left foot was thoroughly relaxed, Hawke moved on to the right one. He applied more oil and repeated the entire process, making sure to give both feet equal time and attention.

He ended with the toes, which seemed to be Fenris’s favorite spot. Hawke very gently pulled each one, hearing a gratifying little crack when things fell into proper alignment. He then massaged them individually, wrapping his thumb and forefinger lightly around each toe and stroking upward. Fenris let out a guttural noise once more.

Hawke looked up at him. Although the elf seemed very relaxed, his muscles loose and fluid, he was sporting a thick erection that was clearly visible through the fabric of his tunic. Fenris locked eyes with Hawke, already fixing him with a hungry stare. Hawke felt his own cock twitch in response and forced himself to look away.

He reached down and picked up a clean towel, gently blotted the excess oil off Fenris’s feet, then wiped his own hands with it.

“Was that all right?” Hawke inquired, pretending that there wasn’t a huge erection already answering part of the question.

Fenris propped himself up on one elbow. “No one has ever done anything like that for me. I must admit, I felt a bit foolish at first. Yet, once you started, it was... indescribable. Thank you.”

“It was nice to be able to dote on you a bit,” Hawke confessed. “I hope you’ll let me do it again some time.”

”On one condition.” Fenris flashed a mischievous smirk. “You must kiss me immediately to seal the bargain.”

Not about to resist that deal, Hawke slid up the bed. Their lips pressed together and Hawke slipped his tongue into Fenris’s mouth, making slow, gentle circles. After a moment, Fenris gave a tiny growl and hardened the kiss, thrusting his tongue inside Hawke’s mouth and nipping and sucking on his lower lip. Fenris grabbed Hawke’s crotch and began squeezing him through his underclothes, coaxing him to hardness.

Hawke felt a tendril of fire snake down his spine. Fenris was an amazing lover, easily the best Hawke had ever had--and thanks to a wild youth in Ferelden, he had a substantial basis for comparison. He loved Fenris, more than he’d ever thought possible, and that passion made the sex even more incredible. But their encounters always tended to be urgent and intense. Fenris generally took the lead, and he would focus with single-minded determination on satisfying Hawke’s needs.

Not that Hawke would dream of complaining, but it wasn’t what he wanted at the moment. Concentrating solely on Fenris during the massage had been intoxicating, and he wasn’t ready to give up that privilege. He swatted Fenris’s hand away and pulled back from the kiss.

“Hawke,” Fenris muttered, reaching for him again, “forget what I said this afternoon. I’m not too tired. I want you.”

Those enticing words sent a jolt, heavy and electric, between Hawke’s legs. But he remained resolute. He lifted his hand to caress Fenris’s cheek. “If we do anything this evening, I want it to be entirely about you. Your pleasure and your pleasure alone.”

Fenris wrinkled his forehead, looking perplexed. “But... you must realize by now that I savor your pleasure as much as my own.”

Hawke trailed his fingertips down Fenris’s cheek and across his jaw, smiling warmly. “Yes, I know. And I’m a very lucky man. But for once, I want to revel in _you_ , totally and completely.”

Fenris said nothing, but sucked in a breath and ultimately nodded his assent. He lay back, flat on the bed, as if in offering.

“Will you finish getting undressed for me?” Hawke asked.

“If you do as well,” Fenris said. Hawke complied by peeling off his tunic as Fenris did the same.

He moved on top of Fenris, pressing against him only slightly, supporting the bulk of his own weight with his arms. His heart raced at the vision of Fenris beneath him--his aggressiveness was gone and replaced with a willingness to surrender to Hawke’s attentions.

Hawke leaned in, grazing his lips in a slow tease along the markings on Fenris’s neck, peppering every inch of exposed skin with feather-light kisses. When Hawke reached his ear, he took the lobe into his mouth and sucked until Fenris gasped. He captured it between his teeth and nipped gently before whispering, “Do you have _any_ idea how breathtaking you are?”

Fenris looked up at Hawke, a faint blush painting his cheeks, and shook his head.

“I didn’t think so,” Hawke breathed, gliding his wet tongue down Fenris’s neck and then dipping lower, to his chest. Fenris groaned and arched into the contact, his fingernails skating down Hawke’s back. Hawke fluttered his tongue against Fenris’s sternum, enjoying the salty-sweet taste of his skin and the contrast of supple flesh over hard bone.

“Even wearing that spiky armor of yours and doing the most mundane things imaginable, I find you captivating,” Hawke met Fenris’s eyes again. “But to have you here like this... I want to show you how grateful I am, how much I adore you.”

“Hawke--” Fenris rasped, “show me... I need...”

Hawke felt a heady combination of arousal and self-satisfaction at seeing Fenris this worked up already. Shifting his balance, he splayed a hand across Fenris’s chest, dusting his fingertips along the smooth, hairless surface until he reached a nipple. He teased it between his fingers, feeling it stiffen at his touch. He then enclosed the other nipple in his mouth, sucking and raking it with his teeth.

Fenris hitched his breath and writhed frantically beneath him, his erection pressing into Hawke’s thigh.

“Mmm, do you like that?” Hawke asked softly. He pinched and sucked the nipples again, delighting in Fenris’s reaction. “Am I giving you what you need?”

“Y-yes.”

“Maker, you’re beautiful like this,” Hawke murmured, planting more kisses along Fenris’s chest. “I could just keep teasing you and petting you all night long.”

“Do you plan to?” Fenris asked hoarsely, his eyes widening. Hawke couldn’t be certain whether he was alarmed or turned on by the possibility.

“That all depends,” Hawke replied, still rolling a hard nipple between his fingers. “Would it please you?”

“It-- _ahh_ \--it is pleasing. But... release would be welcome.” Fenris ground against Hawke’s leg, as if to emphasize the latter point.

“Then, that’s what I’ll give you,” Hawke promised. He began kissing and licking a path down Fenris’s abdomen, tracing the line of one of the lyrium tattoos that twisted across his hip and scrolled around to the inside of his thigh. Hawke’s cheek brushed against Fenris’s arousal and the elf quivered.

In spite of the fact that they’d been intimate for weeks now--years, taking into account their very first time--Hawke hadn’t had the opportunity to explore Fenris as thoroughly or as frequently as he wanted to. He vowed now to change that, allowing himself time to stare appreciatively at Fenris’s cock, which was thick, swollen, and flushed red with arousal. A slick bead of moisture glistened at the tip. Hawke felt himself go hard at the sight, but did his best to ignore the sensation, returning his focus to Fenris.

He inhaled, breathing in the distinct, musky scent of his lover, then exhaled, blowing warm air against Fenris’s erection. Fenris twitched and threaded his fingers through Hawke’s hair, giving it a slight pull.

“Hawke... _please_ ,” Fenris whispered.

Hawke wet his lips and licked a slow, teasing line along the underside of Fenris’s cock. He tongued the slit at the top, lapping up the salty hint of arousal, before wrapping his lips around the tip, taking it into his mouth, and sucking. This elicited a rumble of appreciation from Fenris.

Carefully, Hawke used his lips to push back the foreskin, then flickered and twirled his tongue over the very sensitive head. Fenris gasped and jerked his hips, a reaction that made Hawke repeat the action several times in succession.

When the teasing finally seemed to be driving Fenris mad, Hawke encircled the base of his shaft with his thumb and forefinger. At the same time, he slid his slick mouth down the length, stopping only when his lips met his fingers. Hawke began to work his mouth and hand together, stroking and sucking simultaneously, using long, lazy motions. Every few strokes, he pulled off completely, just to hear Fenris whimper, before sinking down and engulfing him again.

Hawke was finding every moment of this--Fenris pliant and writhing in bliss--absolutely delicious. Weary though he was, he would have been happy to make it last for hours. But Fenris was squirming and muttering “festis bei umo canaverum” under his breath, and Hawke sensed that he was growing frustrated with the drawn-out pace. Not wishing to delay Fenris his release too much longer, Hawke picked up the speed. He jerked and sucked faster, his tongue swiping boldly along the underside and swirling over the head. Meanwhile, he used his other hand to cradle and lightly fondle Fenris’s balls.

Fenris began to thrust upward into Hawke’s mouth, matching the rhythm of his movements. Hawke removed his fingers from the base of  Fenris’s cock and took him in as deep as he could possibly go, until he felt the erection pressing at the very back of his throat. Hawke groaned and swallowed around it, the sensation causing Fenris to buck into him sharply.

Although Hawke had a well-trained gag reflex, the harsh movement combined with Fenris’s substantial size was a lot to take. He had to pause for a few seconds, willing himself not to choke, before pinning Fenris’s hips to the bed and continuing.

“Gar--Garrett.” Fenris panted for air. It was a signal of sorts, since Hawke was only ever “Garrett” when Fenris was approaching orgasm. Hawke wanted to do one more thing before bringing Fenris over the edge, but he thought he should ask permission. He lifted his mouth off again, and this time, the desperate whimper from Fenris sounded almost pained. Green eyes peered down at Hawke pleadingly.

“I want to put my finger inside you,” Hawke croaked, his voice temporarily ruined from the pressure against his throat. “May I?”

The request made Fenris shudder and he nodded fervently. Hawke made quick work of coating his finger in the nearby almond oil before carefully nudging it inside Fenris’s tight ring of muscle.

Once inside, Hawke eased his finger even deeper, wiggling it and crooking it upward until he discovered the sensitive bump he was seeking. All it took was some light pressure on that spot and Fenris was arching and gasping beneath him, dropping his arms to his sides in order to clutch at the bedspread.

“ _Yes_... that’s it,” Hawke breathed, continuing to finger Fenris. “Let me feel you come. I want to swallow you down.”

Hawke dipped his head and devoured Fenris’s cock again, taking it all into his mouth with one swift motion of lips and tongue. Fenris drove his fingers back into Hawke’s hair and tugged with such enthusiasm that Hawke couldn’t help groaning around his erection.

“It’s... too good,” Fenris moaned. “Too much--I can’t hold on--”

With a jagged cry escaping his throat, Fenris convulsed, his climax exploding into Hawke’s mouth. Hawke swallowed every last warm, salty drop of him and continued to suck as Fenris pulsed with each cascading aftershock.

After the last waves of pleasure subsided, Hawke reluctantly let Fenris slip from his mouth. Fenris whispered Hawke’s name and fell back against the pillow as his eyes fluttered shut. He looked thoroughly exhausted, but relaxed and boneless with pleasure. The corners of his mouth were turned up in a smile.

Hawke felt a surge of warmth at seeing Fenris so happy and sated, especially knowing that he’d been the cause of it. He crawled up the bed to collapse beside Fenris, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. Fenris settled into the embrace, breathing softly against Hawke’s chest. 

“Thank you for indulging me tonight,” Hawke said, stroking his fingers lazily through Fenris’s hair.

“I should be the one thanking you,” Fenris murmured, drowsy and half-conscious.

Hawke shifted slightly and his erection inadvertently brushed against Fenris’s leg. Fenris opened his sleepy eyes and gazed up at Hawke.

“I do not wish to leave you unsatisfied,” Fenris mumbled, moving a weary hand toward Hawke’s groin. He was so groggy that he missed the mark, landing instead on Hawke’s thigh.

Hawke chuckled. “I’m not unsatisfied,” he said, and meant it. He was still euphoric from having been permitted to lavish such attention on Fenris. To force the focus back on himself now would spoil things--not that Fenris seemed up to the task anyway, his endearing willingness aside. “I told you earlier that I only wanted to wake up with you in my arms, and here you are. Sleep, Fenris. You’ve more than earned it.”

“But... what about _this_?” Fenris lifted his hand a bit higher, ghosting it over Hawke’s groin.

“Tomorrow, _that_ will be all yours,” Hawke whispered. “You can do anything you like with it. We won’t be going anywhere, anyway.”    

“Won’t we?” Fenris yawned and shut his eyes, resting his head against Hawke’s chest once more. Hawke knew it would be a matter of seconds rather than minutes before he was fast asleep.

“No, we won’t. You should rest your feet for a day.” Hawke smiled and closed his eyes. “And I can think of several ways to help you stay off them.”

 


End file.
